A Bride For The Brooding Boss. Bella Bucannon

northern suburbs, called me last night. If he’s not back by morning break, I’ll join you for coffee.’ She pushed the door open and left.

      Being alone in the office didn’t daunt Lauren, who’d always preferred having no surrounding noise or motion. Today her body was all keyed up as if waiting for some fundamental essential that was missing.

      She had no interruptions until ten-thirty when Joanne walked in carrying a plate of home-baked jam slices.

      ‘Family favourite. Let’s sit by the window. Tea or coffee?’

      ‘Tea, thanks.’

      Lauren never indulged in gossip at work. She couldn’t define why she felt tempted now, unless it was because Matt Dalton had invaded her peace of mind, and aroused her curiosity. The more she learnt about him, the easier it might be to resist him. If she couldn’t she knew who’d end up heartbroken.

      ‘How long have you worked for the Daltons?’

      ‘Over six years. Since my youngest started secondary school. Of course, that was in a smaller office near the parklands. I like having familiar faces around. How do you cope, travelling and working with new people all the time?’

      ‘I prefer it. I’m not much of a people person, never quite got the hang of casual socialising.’

      ‘Mr Dalton senior was a natural and had no problems persuading people to invest with him. He was good with computers, installing quite a few new programs himself, and very easy to work for until a few years ago. We lost good long-term staff because he became secretive and less approachable.’

      ‘And now Matt’s in charge.’

      Of everything. Thankfully he was unaware that included her emotions, unaware of how intriguing she found him.

      ‘He came back from Europe when his father’s heart trouble was diagnosed. Put a great career on hold, I understand, and not very happy to be here. I’m not sure whether it’s the business, the problems or having to leave London, maybe all of them. He’ll be heading back once his father’s in full health again.’

      Lauren let her babble on, regretting she’d instigated the topic. Matt had led her to believe he trusted Joanne yet he’d given the staff a fabricated story and let them believe his father would be coming back.

      Did he really think any of them were involved in the computer anomalies? If not, it was cruel of him to give them false hope. Why did he keep giving out mixed messages? Or was she misinterpreting them?

      Oh, why wasn’t he older, content with a doting wife, and heading for a paunch from all her home cooking?

      * * *

      Lauren’s mobile rang as she wrote notes on the last hour’s work. Convincing Matt of her beliefs wasn’t going to be an easy task.

      ‘Ms Taylor, I need a favour.’

      No preamble. No ‘how are things going?’ And the rasping tone was rougher. Why did she sympathise with his stress when he obviously intended to unload some of it onto her?

      ‘Yes, Mr Dalton.’

      ‘This is taking longer than I anticipated. If a Duncan Ford arrives at the office while I’m out, can you entertain him until I arrive?’

      ‘Me?’

      Meet and socialise with an unknown corporate executive?

      Dealing with them when they needed her skills and the conversation centred on their technical problems was a world away from casual chit-chat. Knowing she was capable gave her confidence.

      ‘You. Will it be a problem? Joanne’s compiling figures for our meeting later.’ He sounded irritated at her reluctance.

      ‘That’s not what I do. The few businessmen I’ve met have only been interested in how quickly I can fix their problems. A comment about the weather is as personal as we’d get.’

      ‘It won’t be for long. I’ll be there in an hour or so, depending on traffic.’

      She heard another voice in the background, followed by his muttered reply.

      ‘Please, Ms Taylor. He’s just a man.’

      Yeah, like you’re just a man.

      His coaxing tone teased goose bumps to rise on her skin, and the butterflies in her stomach to take flight. She’d do it for him, and he knew it. She could hardly tell him fear of messing it up for him contributed to her reticence.

      ‘Give him coffee. Ask him about the weekend football or his grandkids. Pretend he’s an android.’

      She pictured him grinning as he said that, and sighed.

      ‘Okay, I’ll try.’

      After an abrupt ‘thanks’ he hung up, leaving her with a sinking stomach and a strong craving for chocolate, her standby for stress. Grabbing her bag, she raced for the lift and the café in the next building, mentally plotting dire consequences for all the too-good-looking, excessively privileged, overly confident males who’d ever tried to manipulate her. Including her three brothers.

      * * *

      ‘Mr Ford has arrived, Lauren. I’ll bring him along.’ Joanne phoned to give her warning.

      Shoot. Only ten minutes since Matt called to say he was finally on his way. She swallowed a mouthful of water, pulled her shoulders back and prayed she didn’t look as apprehensive as she felt. On her way through his office she added an extra plea he had a clear traffic run.

      Mr Ford was average height, slightly overweight, and wore an apologetic smile. So much for Matt’s word picture. He also held a small boy by the hand.

      ‘Ms Taylor? Thank you for offering to look after us until Matt gets here.’

      Offering? Us? Someone tall and desperate had bent the truth a tad.

      ‘You’re welcome. Come on in.’ She indicated towards the armchairs. ‘Please take a seat. Would—?’

      Squealing with excitement, the child had broken free and was running to the window.

      ‘Look, Granddad. Look how high we are. Look at the tiny cars way down there.’